


Mother's Day

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Holiday: Other, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair celebrate Mother's Day.<br/>This story is a sequel to no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother's Day

## Mother's Day

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Title: Mother's Day 1/1  
Author: Grey  
Email address: Grey853@aol.com  
Rating: NC-17, explicit m/m sex  
Pairings: J/B  
Date: May 10, 1998  
Status: New, complete  
Archive: Yes  
Archive author: yes  
Archive email: yes  
Series/Sequel: stand alone  
Other website: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't own the guys, but that's never stopped me from using them. They really don't seem to mind. 

Spoilers: "Neighborhood Watch" and "Hear No Evil". 

Summary: Jim and Blair celebrate Mother's Day. 

Notes: Good mothers are never gone. Their influence affects every part of our lives. I thank god that mine has influenced me for good. She doesn't always approve of my choices, but she respects and loves me unconditionally. Lucky me doesn't even cover it. 

Mother's Day 1/1  
by Grey 

Blair Sandburg sat in the chair nearest the window, legs tucked up, pen and paper in hand. Mother's Day, 3 AM, and he had no way to reach his mom to say thanks, to talk to her and hear her voice. He missed that about traveling, with or without his mom. Somehow on the road it didn't seem so bad not to be able to call her, because he moved around, too. He and his mom, two gypsies, and he'd always loved that part of his life. God, how things changed. 

"Hey, Chief. What you doin'?" Blair glanced up to see Jim leaning on the rail, his hair tufted wisps spiked up from his brief sleep. Bare-chested, broad-shouldered, he stood there still groggy, rubbing one hand over his face. 

"Sorry. Was I writing too loud again, man?" 

"Funny, Chief. What's going on?" 

"Nothing. Just writing a letter to my mom." Blair turned his attention back to the yellow pad and scribbled another line. 

"In the middle of the night?" 

"Sure, why not?" 

Jim walked down the stairs and moved behind Blair's chair. Wrapping his arms around his lover, he brushed back the curls and then kissed the side of his neck. The warm lips sucking his flesh brought on a rush of heat between his legs, the ultimate direct connection. "Jesus, James." 

His chuckle muffled, the sentinel continued the task of marking his territory, nibbling with a light gnawing effect. Broad hands massaged down Blair's furry chest, pushing the robe to the side. Head falling back, the young guide groaned at the ceiling. Easing back, Jim whispered, "So, why the need to write your mom in the middle of the night? You worried about something?" He continued to run his hands up and down, teasing the nipples with expert finger tips. 

"No, man. It's Mother's Day." Blair's voice, husky with arousal, rippled the air. 

Jim stopped moving. "Mother's Day?" He suddenly stood up and then walked over to the kitchen. 

The abrupt change caught Blair off guard. Primed and abandoned, he asked,"What's wrong?" 

"Nothing." He watched as his best friend frowned and opened the refrigerator for a beer. "Want one?" 

"No, man. I want to know what's going on." 

Jim twisted the cap off and brought the bottle to his mouth in a single, fluid motion. Blair loved the grace and efficiency of the man. But he knew his lover's personal body language. At that moment, his sentinel broadcast a whole catalogue of hurt. 

He put the pad and pen on the floor and walked over. Reaching out, he placed a palm in the middle of his lover's chest and then rubbed a circle. The firm definition of muscle pressed back against his hand. "Tell me, Jim." 

Avoiding eye contact, Jim spoke in a low voice. "I just forgot the date, that's all." 

Awareness flashed, and Blair inched closer, resting his face over his best friend's heart. "I'm sorry, man. I am like so stupid. I forget sometimes when I'm running my mouth about Naiomi." 

Tousling the dark curls, Jim then kissed the top of the most beautiful head in the world. "You're not stupid, babe. I don't know why you do that." 

"What?" Blair listened to the steady rhythm of his man's heart. It pounded lovingly in his ear, his own beacon of purpose. 

"Call yourself stupid." 

"Well, I am. I should be more sensitive. I forget that you don't have a mom like mine." 

"Chief, nobody has a mom like yours." 

Blair grinned at the playful dig. "I hear that." 

Moving his chin back and forth across the top of his lover's head, he spoke softly. "Then hear this, too. Stop calling yourself stupid. You're the smartest man I know." 

Wrapping his arms around Jim's waist, the younger man let his whiskers scrape across the sensitive skin. The heart beneath his ear beat faster. He repeated the action and noted the swift increase. 

"Oh, god, you're a rascal, Chief. Do that again." The side of his face traced the center line of muscle as Jim backed toward the solid support of the cabinet. The slight tremor of muscles spurred him to lick the salty flesh with each turn of his head. 

"Man, you taste all sweaty and nice, sentinel flavored." 

Jim reached down and pulled the eager mouth to his own. Lips brushed lightly, the tongue tip pushing forward. The faint taste of Blair's own semen still lingered, still swept to the back of his throat. He sucked harder as the larger man twirled and thrust, a gentle dance of tongues. A few minutes later, his breathing still ragged, Jim whispered, "You're my favorite flavor, Chief." 

"Think it'll catch on at Baskin-Robbins?" 

Cuffing the top of his head, Jim laughed, "Not in this life. No way. The recipe's all mine." 

"Selfish pig." 

"You bet, babe. One taste of Blair stuff and the bullpen would never be the same." 

"Oh, man, you did NOT have to say that." Blair laughed so hard he did a little snortfest against his lover's chest. Jim joined in. 

The young guide finally contained himself and then snuggled there a moment longer before he pulled away. "So, you want to talk about it now?" 

Pretending ignorance, Jim stroked the side of Blair's face. "I prefer action to talk, babe." 

As he aimed for another kiss, Blair smiled knowingly, "Yeah, I know, but indulge me, man." 

He reached down to Blair's crotch, rubbing the firm erection, "Action first, babe. We can talk later." 

Eyes squeezed shut, swimming in the winding heat firing and spreading between his legs, Blair grunted, "Promise?" 

"Sure. Anything. Just hush for now." A strong hand snaked down past elastic to grip the hard cock. 

"Oh, man, I am like so hushed." 

Teasing a thumb over the crown, the older man slicked the pre-cum and pumped his fist a couple of times. A fire storm flared, a holocaust of reason as Blair thoughts fell helpless victim to dust and smoke. Haze enveloped his mind, no words peeked out to question, to even wonder. Yogic flying had nothing on floating in the arms of Jim Ellison lifting and placing him on the table. Boxers gone, legs spread, a lubed finger pushed into him. Over and over he paced his breathing to the rhythm of the thrust. A slave only to sensation, tight muscles swelled to rupture across his groin. Thighs up and shaking, another finger pressed in, rubbed his prostate. Ass lifting, he groaned up from the center of the universe, ashes for brains. 

A blunt pressure eased fire further in, each inch spreading flesh to the farthest limit of pain and pleasure. His very bones bent with tension, tendons fighting muscles, nerves high from screaming. Impaled with flame, he gulped down a thick and stubborn air. Grunting with impatience, the pumping canceled all breath. He lived only in his joined fullness, of his lover filling and unfilling his world with passion, with life-force of delightful agony. The joyful hurt of being loved by Jim Ellison painted his tissues with ecstasy unmatched. 

Hands stroked up and down his hips as the rhythm increased. Thighs heavy and pushing, heels up and on the table, Blair rode the rising wave of tautness gripping every tissue, every cell. Behind squeezed eyelids a burst of color flashed white and flamed to red. Explosions clenched him, ass cheeks spasmed, convulsing to the uncontrolled release of any possible meaning beyond the moment. Powerful hands held him down, controlled all motion, suspending weight as flesh melted into flesh within him. Light narrowed to grey narrowed to Jim's contorted face against his cheek, his mouth open in surprise at ultimate pleasure. 

Slowly time resumed and the meaning of words filtered back to Blair's blurry thinking. Jim's body rested heavy across his own, but he didn't mind. He raised his legs up and around, nudging the small of his lover's back with his locked heels. Tickling the side of the sweaty neck with his tongue, he then whispered. "Going to stay like this all night, love?" 

Jim grumbled and moaned before lifting only slightly. "Sounds good to me, Chief." 

"Yeah, well, in theory, but maybe we should move this party upstairs." 

"Party pooper." 

Nipping the sentinel's ear in retaliation, Blair laughed. "Well, I'm pretty pooped all right, thanks to you." He nudged him again and then moved his legs back to brace on the table. 

Reluctantly, Jim pushed himself up and gently withdrew. Careful not to overbalance, he helped his lover sit up. "Hold on a minute, babe." Blair gripped the table, suddenly lightheaded from being upright. A warm cloth went between his legs to clean up, while a still hungry tongue washed over his belly to lick the cooling come. 

"God, you taste good. Feel good, too." 

Jim threw the cloth to the sink while Blair let himself slip into his lover's strong arms. "You, too, man." 

"Thanks, Chief. Want to go upstairs now?" 

"Sure." 

Shyly, Jim added. "What about your letter?" 

"It'll get written a little later. I've got so much to tell her." 

Still holding Blair tight against his chest, he asked, "What?" 

"Well, for one I've got to thank her. If she hadn't bothered to have me, I never would've met you." 

Jim buried his nose in the heavenly thick scent of Blair's curls. "What else?" 

"I want to tell her about my own levitation." 

"How's that, Chief?" 

"Didn't you feel me leave the ground, Jim?" 

"Oh, yeah, babe. I think we both did. I think we both got a full dose of that spiritual enlightenment deal." 

"Want me tell her that?" 

Jim laughed, the sex-sated feeling easing like a heavy heaven through his muscles. "Sure. And Chief?" 

"What?" 

"Tell her thanks for me, too." 

"Why's that?" 

Caressing Blair's cheek, he smiled. "Thank her for raising you so you could love me, man to man, no reservations, no taboos." 

"It's called spiritual enlightenment, Jim." 

"Consider me enlightened, Chief." Nuzzling closer, he added, "And tell her, I'd wished I'd had a mom like her." 

Blue eyes stinging, Blair looked up at the man he loved. "She'll like that, Jim. Best Mother's Day gift ever, love." 

"Let's go upstairs and celebrate with a little sleep then." 

"I'm down with that, man." 

"Happy Mother's Day, Chief." 

The End 


End file.
